it meant to be in love.
Alex was watching him with a pensive expression, fingers toying with the stem of his glass. Benedict returned his gaze as if meeting an unspoken challenge. Alex could bring him here and make Benedict feel things he didn’t wish to feel … but in the end, it would change nothing. Trying to find the words to express those thoughts, Benedict ground his teeth, annoyed that they wouldn’t leap off his tongue as easily as before. It was this tavern, the place where he and Alex had experienced so many firsts together. It was Alex himself—too perfect to be real, too close to be ignored.
The music changed from a dizzying tempo to a slow, swelling one that made Benedict’s chest constrict around his lungs. With a soft smile, Alex inclined his head toward the dance floor, crowded with men drawing close to one another for a waltz.
“Dance?”
No. No, he didn’t care to dance with Alex. A waltz was too intimate. He hadn’t danced with another man since Alex left him, hadn’t wanted to spoil his coveted memories with a different partner. It didn’t make sense, considering the hatred Benedict had fostered for his former lover over the years, but there you had it. There were some things he was simply unwilling to taint by drawing one of his temporary lovers into them, regardless of how he’d come to feel about Alex.
Despite himself, Benedict spit out the first answer that came to mind. “Are you still terrible at it?”
Shrugging one shoulder, Alex’s grin widened. “No better than the last time we danced, but certainly no worse.”
With a labored sigh, Benedict came to his feet. “Then, I’m leading.”
Alex rushed to follow Benedict into the crowd of dancers like an eager puppy, his smile both charming and infuriating. This wasn’t some romantic gesture or olive branch; it was a test. Benedict needed to remind himself that being near Alex again wasn’t enough to change him, or heal his festering internal wounds. It would be a way to prove that he could survive this arrangement without losing himself in the process. He was in this for the promised money, nothing more.
They drew into each other with an ease born from years of practice, Alex submitting to Benedict’s dominant hold with satisfying pliancy. Hands clasped and arms around one another, they fell into the dip and sway of the waltz, Benedict’s controlled movements guiding Alex’s. There was much raucous laughter and jostling on the dance floor, but the drunken revelry seemed far removed from them. Benedict refused to break Alex’s stare, taking the other man’s probing gaze as a challenge.
I am in control here, he said without speaking, resolve driving his every thought, his every move. I’m here because I choose to be, because I intend to exact every penny of the money I need to save my skin before leaving you as you left me.
Alex was far too stubborn to be cowed, staring back at Benedict with unspoken challenges of his own. If he could read Alex’s thoughts, Benedict was certain they would echo the things already said. He was determined to win, to break through the walls Benedict had constructed around himself and reclaim a heart that had long shriveled up and died. There was the rub. He was almost tempted to warn Alex off, to tell him that there was no heart left for him to win. But it was far crueler and more satisfying to allow Alex to discover that for himself. It seemed a just reward for his unpardonable offense.
“You’re still as graceful as ever,” Alex said, his expression growing wistful. “The only partner who could manage to make me look good on the dance floor.”
“It’s simply a matter of residual skill,” Benedict replied. “I’m good enough for no one to notice how terrible you are.”
Alex chuckled. “Indeed. It’s one of the reasons I’ll be glad to quit London so I can shun all the invitations piling up in my study. If I’m not here to attend their balls, no one can coerce me into dancing with their daughters. The poor ladies’ toes will be trampled into dust by the time I’m finished with them.”
“I’m certain dear Lady Vautrey didn’t mind, as your massive fortune must have been a comfort to her, crushed toes notwithstanding.”
Alex stiffened, coming to an abrupt halt and nearly causing Benedict to stumble over his next step. The amusement faded from his face, replaced by stony ire. Without a word, he pushed